By L. Crystal Michallet-Romero
Copyright © August 10, 2004 L. Crystal Michallet-Romero
All Rights Reserved c/s
Since reworking this little tale, I have signed a contract with Limitless Dare 2 Dream Publishing (http://www.limitlessd2d.net/)
and look forward to turning the entire tale over to them as soon it is completely edited.
Rated: NC-17, not intended, or suitable for children.
Violence: Only a consensual initiation.
Sexual Content: Explicit gay and lesbian scenes.
Sexual Violence: None in this chapter.
Vampire Violence: Nothing beyond words and curses.
Subtext: Of course.
All feedback welcomed at: CrystalMichallet@yahoo.com
VI. Fernando
The candles from the shrine in the corner cast an eerie glow within the basement room. Each candle was laid out in perfect
order according to each saint. The flames from the wick swayed to an unholy dance as the images of the saints on the glass
holders appeared to come to life. While the scent of the beeswax candles wafted in the air a humble servant remained
kneeling before the altar, his lips moving slightly as he recited the prayers while his hands clasped the prayer beads in hand.
The dim glow cast a reddish hue over his neatly trimmed goatee. His shoulder-length black hair hung loose, which caused the
shadows to fall haphazardly over his strong, masculine features. Owing to his condition, the beads he held during prayers
were not the traditional rosary but were Tibetan Mala prayer beads. Every once in a while his gaze looked up at the wooden
statue on the wall. Even though the figure was stretched out in the shape of a cross, because Fernando thought of it as a hand
carved statue of the blessed Jesus and not a crucifix, he could look upon it with his vampire eyes.
Unlike Tamara, Fernando believed in Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. He believed in the angels and placed his faith in the
saints. From the time that he was a niño he was raised according to the sacraments of the Church. The young lad had
learned all of the lessons needed from his catechism classes, and now as an adult he felt his foundations firmly rooted within
the doctrines. He believed in Las Doce Verdades, The Twelve Truths, and could recite them all by heart.
Without fail he attended midnight mass to listen to the holy words of the Padre and join in the Alabados. As an altar boy
Fernando led the hymns. His sweet soprano voice sang the words with all his heart. As an adult his smooth tenor voice
blended in perfect harmony with the rest of the congregation. This never changed after he became part of the un-dead. As a
vampire, the only part of the services that he could not partake in was the act of Holy Communion, and this saddened
Fernando. His devout nature mourned this simple act of paying homage to his beloved Messiah.
With prayer beads in hand, Fernando looked over his shoulder at the figure sleeping in his bed. For the first time since being
initiated, Sahar was resting comfortably under the covers. When she first awoke after the attack, she was filled with the
normal fear and anguish that comes from such a brutal rape. But after Sahar’s fears were quieted and he assured her of her
safety, the dreams began to plague the new vampire. The only thing that Fernando could do was to remain close and comfort
her as best as possible.
As he watched her sleeping peacefully Fernando realized that although they had become friends over the years, Sahar’s shy
and quiet nature revealed almost nothing of herself. While he glanced at her shadow he wondered where she had come from
and how her path had led her to this place. As he returned his attention to his prayers, he reflected on his own childhood and
remembered his family as if it were yesterday.…
The youngest of thirteen children, Fernando had never known the hardships that his siblings underwent. While his older
brothers and sisters spent the day working, his abuela y abuelo kept Fernando close at home because they feared for his
safety. For reasons no one was able to explain an evil brujera, a woman skilled in witchcraft, cast forth her powers and
promised that Fernando would be cursed with an eternity of darkness. Fearful for their hijo, he was never allowed to wander
alone too far from home. For the young boy, there was no other life outside of the small adobe home his family lived in.
Only when the sun lowered in the sky did Fernando’s mother, father and siblings return home from their long day of work.
While his mother and sisters worked in the house of a local rancher, his father and brothers were employed as vaceros, ranch
hands. Being hearty and robust, the men in his family worked hard, and this pleased the wealthy rancher who employed
them. Between their numbers and expertise they were able to not only breed the future generations of horses, but they also
were able to tame the wild nature of the beasts. Although Fernando was not allowed to join them, he received his greatest
pleasure by listening to the stories of the day from both his brothers and sisters.
By day Fernando’s mother was a maid in a fancy home on the outskirts of Guadalupe, and at night when she returned home,
she would relax and partake of the food that his grandmother had made. It was during these times when the family shared
their tales of the day. For young Fernando, he loved to listen to the intrigues of the manor house. The gossip that his sisters
shared could keep his mind filled for many days, and the adventures of his brothers and father made him proud to be in their
family.
This is how young Fernando’s life began. During the day he would listen studiously to the lessons of his grandmother. She
taught him how to tend to the numerous herbs in her garden and how to carefully mix the plants that would cure the villagers
of their various ailments. When not learning the healing lessons, Fernando shadowed his aged grandfather and helped with the
feeding of the animals. Everyday the lessons of the Church were prominent in his life.
Each morning before the sun rose, the boy went with his grandmother across the open land to the nearby church at
Guadalupe. As they walked he paid attention to his abuela’s story of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, the Virgin of
Guadalupe. All of his life Fernando listened to this story with interest. He felt uplifted every time he thought of the fact that
the Blessed Virgin had appeared to Juan Diego, a Mexican Indian. The story of her appearance bolstered the young boy’s
faith in the divine. Not even his grandfather’s words could sway him from the teachings of the church.
“Hijo,” Fernando’s grandfather had said once as they stood together on a hill that overlooked the small adobe. “I’m going to
tell you this story once, and once only,” the wizened man waved him closer. Like a conspirator, he knelt down in front of his
grandson and began to speak softly.
“Hijo, my great grandfather, may he rest in peace, knew Juan Diego,” abuelo said. When Fernando’s eyes grew wide with
surprise, the old man smiled a toothless grin as he sat upon the ground and patted the grass next to him. “Si, our family knew
him, and as the story goes, Juan Diego wasn’t always his name. It was the name that the gavacho Church gave to him. He
was like us, a Nahuatel Indian, but to the Church his birth name wasn’t good enough so they changed it for him. As for the
story of the Virgin appearing to him,” the old man smiled, winked, and then made a motion with his hands as if drinking from a
bottle. “I remember my abuelo retelling the stories told to him, and as it was said, that Juan, he was always drinking the
spirits, Hijo,” a wink and rueful chuckle escaped the old man’s control, which brought laughter from the young boy.
“Then he didn’t see the Blessed Virgin, or have the miracle happen, Abuelo?” Fernando had asked.
“Oh, Hijo, I never said that,” Fernando’s grandfather turned solemn. “Mount Tepeyac is where Tonantzin, the Aztec
goddess, used to live. Once long before the invaders arrived and took the land of our people, Tonantzin was the great
mother and protector of our people. Our ancestors would go to that mountain and leave offerings and say prayers for their
protection, and the goddess would bless them with her presence. You see, Hijo, over time the gods and goddesses
transformed into the new gods, but it doesn’t mean they change. They are still the same, it’s only the names that have
changed,” the old man’s expression was solemn. “There was a time when our people owned this land, but now we are
servants. Some say if it hadn’t been for the vision of Juan Diego, we would not be here anymore,” the old man stated
solemnly.
“Why, Abuelo?” Fernando’s curiosity was never-ending.
“Because, Hijo, once the Blessed Virgin showed herself to an indio, the Church had to admit that we were humans with souls
and not animals. Yes, Hijo, if it were not for Juan Diego’s vision, I’m not exactly certain where we would be today,” the old
man grew solemn as he looked out at the scenery of the valley. Adobes like their own were scattered across the land. In the
distance were the neatly arranged fields and plantations. If he looked hard enough, the young niño was certain that he could
see the hacienda where his family worked.
Before Fernando could reflect on this, his grandfather’s arm wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him close. “The thing to
always remember, Hijo, is that just like the goddess Tonantzin has changed her name, she is still the same – still our indio
goddess. Si, no matter how things change, no matter if the land changes before us, what is in here,” the old man tapped his
chest, “what is in our hearts will never change. That is what is always important to remember.”
Although he may not have understood his grandfather’s lesson at the time, as Fernando grew up, and especially after he was
initiated into the vampire life, he soon realized the value of his grandfather’s words.
Fernando had remained close to home during most of his childhood. Because of the curse, he was never left out of his family’
s sight. So day in and day out young Fernando did his chores. He went to catechism, attended mass and said his daily
prayers. Like his madre and abuela, he prayed for the Blessed Mary’s protection against whatever darkness might befall
him and he tried his best to make his family proud.
Nothing about Fernando would have struck anyone as odd. True, he did not play rough like his brothers, nor did he care to
spend time with his brothers doing manly things. He was just as comfortable staying home as he was being with his sisters
when they worked at the Hacienda. At a time when boys began to notice girls, Fernando realized that there was something
very different about him. But it was a difference he could not speak of openly.
While his brothers would talk and brag of their lustful feelings for various girls, Fernando remained silent. After all, how could
he tell them that the only time that he felt such feelings was when he walked by the corral and watched the other men
working? How could he explain that the hardness that he woke up to always followed a dream of men? And how could he
explain that when he heard the women talking of the handsome men they had spotted, he longed to be able to join in their
conversations. At fourteen, Fernando knew enough to keep his thoughts to himself.
This all changed when Fernando turned sixteen years old. This was an age when many of his brothers and sisters were
already married and beginning their own families. But Fernando hadn’t followed their steps. His mother continued to say that
he was destined to be a padre, a holy man, but even this Fernando could not confirm. So instead he kept close to home. He
continued to say his prayers and attend mass. He was as dutiful a son as anyone could be. So on that fateful day while
running an errand for his mother, he did not think that anything would change.
Always mindful of the curse, his mother was reluctant to send Fernando alone to the hacienda where his brothers worked.
But at sixteen he spoke up in an attempt to prove his manhood. He was no longer a child, he had argued, and an errand to
his brothers would not cause any harm. With his father’s backing, he took the first step that would lead him on the path that
was to be his destiny.
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